Tom took off his headphones for a second. The silence of the sea crashed in. Then he put them back on, cranked up the Eurotrance, and danced like nobody was watching—because, really, nobody sober was.
Alex appeared with a tray of lukewarm Cokes and a single slice of toast. "Well," he said. "You survived." magaluf stag activities
Tom woke up at noon with a sock on his hand, a message from his fiancée saying "I love you, you idiot," and a vague memory of promising to buy a timeshare. He staggered to the balcony. The strip was quiet, being hosed down by a tired-looking Spanish man. The neon was dead. The sun was merciless. Tom took off his headphones for a second
At hole 15, Alex announced a "detour." Tom sighed. "The suitcase, is it?" "Yep." They walked into a club that smelled of vanilla air freshener and regret. Tom was handed a bundle of Euros and told to "make it rain." He refused, instead buying a single, overpriced rose for the woman on stage, bowing awkwardly, and retreating to the VIP sofa where he proceeded to fall asleep face-down for ten minutes. The lads took a group photo with him drooling on a velvet cushion. It would become the most-shared image of the weekend. Alex appeared with a tray of lukewarm Cokes
They ended the night at a silent disco on the beach. It was 3 AM. The world was soft and fuzzy. Tom put on the headphones. He had three channels: 80s rock, 90s hip-hop, or Eurotrance. He couldn't hear his mates, only the music in his own ears. He looked around. Alex was passionately singing Bon Jovi to a seagull. Finn was breakdancing badly. Gaz had found his trunks again but was wearing them on his head. Paul was just sitting in the sand, smiling, holding a half-eaten kebab.
